PRINCE IN EXILE (95 page)

The first thing Supanakha felt on regaining consciousness was a sensation that she had no means of comprehending. She had never felt thus before, so had no words or experience with which to draw a comparison. She rose to her fours, then to her hinds, in one smooth easy motion, looking around with clear, strong vision, hearing every nuance of sound—from the rustle of Mandodhari’s saree in the Pushpak hovering above to the grinding of teeth in three of Ravana’s mouths—smelling every scent with invigorating sharpness, all her senses alive and perfect. Perfect! That was what she was now. She looked down at herself in wonderment, disbelieving paws touching the rich pile of her own furry pelt, the supple power in her restored muscles, the powerful expansion of her lungs, the steady pounding of her heart … 

She raised her head and issued a catcall of glee. 

‘Indeed, Cousin. Celebrate your restoration. It is but one of the many gifts I will bequeath you. I apologise for my lack of good humour earlier. You have fulfilled your part of our bargain and spent your own life-blood to resurrect me and you can be certain that I will be most munificent in my gratitude.’ 

Supanakha turned her eyes to the figure standing astride the altar on which he had lain motionless until moments ago. Ravana looked every bit as perfect as she felt. The palpable power of his persona throbbed like a heartbeat, splashing in rhythmic waves across her reawakened senses, filling her with awe and arousal. She purred, flicking her tail and leaped onto the stone slab, landing beside him lithely. She revelled in her regained strength and good health—no, not just regained, for she had never before possessed such vigour and power. Rebirth would be a more appropriate term! Ravana had rebirthed her whole in the wink of an eye. Not even in the long-past prime of her five-hundredyear lifespan had she ever experienced such a state. 

With a sensuous, inviting action, she licked his foot delicately. Her tail, restored to its original three-yard length, curled upwards over her spine, exposing her flanks. Ravana’s heads gazed down at her, several of them turning to one another to consult, speaking a multitude of tongues, exchanging gestures and looks. At least two of them stared down hungrily, lustfully at her. But one head merely smiled imperiously. 

‘You flatter me with your offer, Cousin. Do not feel offended if I turn you down, gently and affectionately. This is neither the time nor the place to partake of such pleasures. I have been long asleep. There is much to be done.’ 

He extended one exquisitely muscled hand, extruding all six of his upper limbs at the same time. ‘But I request you, pray, grant me the pleasure of your company. I would have you by my side through the next days. I know I have treated you as one inferior but all that is past. From now on I shall treasure your participation in my rule of Lanka. Not for nothing do we in this part of the world add the words “brother” and “sister” to “cousin”. You are my cousin sister. And you shall be treated as befits my sister.’ 

She blinked, both surprised and pleased at this extraordinary offer, as well as at the manner in which it was presented. Was this really Ravana? He had never been so gentle before. Unless her own restored senses were playing tricks with her memory. But she did not think so. There was something truly different about her powerful cousin, she smelled it in his odour, lighter, less choking, more musky and sensual. Yes, Ravana was back. But he was changed as well. She smiled cattily up at him. It would be interesting to observe this new Ravana. Yes, she would accompany him wherever he chose to go. Even if he was only in a passing good mood because of his freedom, it was worth basking in the sunshine of his generosity, however long it lasted. 

Vibhisena couldn’t help but see the change in his brother. He had marvelled at the sheer quantum of Brahman power that had been released from Ravana’s body. Surely such a huge quantum of Brahman shakti, stored for so long in Ravana’s very cells, must have left some impact? Not enough to negate Ravana’s essential asura nature, nor his millennia of sins and crimes. But enough to leave some mark, however small. Yet he was too used to the wiles of asuras to be too hopeful. 

But when Ravana spoke to Supanakha, even Vibhisena was taken aback. The difference was startling. The old Ravana would have lashed out, regressing at once to his old ways of violence and abuse. But even now, the ten-headed one was greeting Mandodhari and their sons as he boarded the Pushpak, greeting them not in the haughty, arrogantly abusive way he would have before, but with something approaching genuine warmth. He wasn’t embracing them and weeping with joy, but that would have been too much to expect. Why, he was actually speaking civilly if formally to his own wife, something he had not been known to do for decades before his incapacitation. 

Vibhisena stiffened as Ravana finished having words with the others and turned to him. He scanned the row of joined heads, trying to make sense of their disparate expressions. It was impossible as always, for each of the ten heads operated with a mind of their own, seemingly unconnected to the others. That much had not changed one whit. He still could not tell which head was in command. But even here, there was a visible change. Instead of the scorn and derision he was accustomed to seeing on Ravana’s many faces, he saw only mild disdain in two or three, and most surprisingly, a kind of equanimity in the others. One head even smiled with a regal politeness. 

‘Brother. You are well?’ 

Vibhisena cleared his throat, choosing a cautious reply. ‘I am glad you are revived.’ 

One head turned and began an argument with two others in a language Vibhisena had never heard spoken before, though he considered himself something of a linguist. Several other heads nodded, whether in response to the arguing one or to Vibhisena’s words, he could not tell. Again, the responses were almost within normal behaviour, displaying none of the extremes of emotion that had been a hallmark of the old Ravana. 

‘Brother, your role in my resurrection is not insignificant,’ the central head said in a gravelly bass voice. The head at the extreme right took up the dialogue without any pause, using a mellow tenor. ‘You will also feel the warmth of my gratitude. Pray, grace us with the pleasure of your company upon this historic day.’ 

Vibhisena had to remind himself to breathe. ‘Uh, yes, of course, brother. I am with you.’ 

The majority of Ravana’s heads smiled at him. He thought he caught a glimpse of one frowning and another sneering but before he could be sure, Ravana turned away and took up position at the prow of the airship. Without further ado, the Pushpak rose smoothly towards the top of the cavern and the exitway out to the world above. 

Figuratively as well as literally, Ravana was returning to Lanka. 

SIX 

The habitat was a riot of chaos. Thousands of Pulastya rakshasas, panicked by the tremors, ran helter skelter yelling in confusion. Elders and clan masters tried to subdue the masses, but they were shouting contradictory orders. The general feeling seemed to be that the next earthquake would surely bring down the entire hill, so they must all get out at once. With this in mind, they were thronging the stairway that wound upwards to the top of the hollowed hill. But the stairway could only take half a dozen broad-shouldered rakshasas at a time, and was not meant to accommodate such numbers or such haste. Rakshasas were toppling off, slipping and being crushed underfoot, while the maddened horde scrabbled desperately upwards. Even so, Vibhisena estimated, it would take them a long time to reach the top, and none seemed to have given thought to the possibility that a quake could recur while they were still climbing. 

On Ravana’s command, the Pushpak rose until it was a hundred or so yards above the floor of the habitat and hovered. At this height they were visible to almost all on the ground as well as the stairway. Still, so panicked were the rakshasas that they had failed to notice that the celestial vehicle carried none other than their lord himself. 

Ravana watched the melee for a moment. Some of his heads conferred, then came to an agreement, clicking their tongues regretfully at the lives being needlessly destroyed. 

‘Fools!’ Indrajit made no effort to hide his disgust. ‘They cannot withstand a simple force of nature. How would they resist an invasion?’ He hawked and spat over the side of the Pushpak. 

‘For once I agree with my brother,’ Akshay Kumar said, his aristocratic features curled in disdain. ‘Look at them. They run like cowardly insects, shaming the noble clan of Pulastya.’ 

Ravana turned to his sons. Vibhisena saw a flash of something in the eyes of the head at the extreme left and he stepped back, afraid that the old Ravana was back, quick to lash out with tongue as well as weapon, whichever was quickest and would cut deepest. 

Instead, Ravana shot a sharp, telling glance at his two sons, then turned back to the crowd. He uttered a mantra, holding out both hands, palms facing inwards. Vibhisena tried to catch the words but all he could tell was that it was a potent mahamantra, one of those that were imbibed so deeply that they could only be passed on through blood, not by rote. He guessed it was one of the many astras that his brother had received from the devas as reward for his great penances of the past. His guess was proved correct a moment later as Ravana completed his recitation. 

The lord of Lanka brought his outstretched hands together in a deafening, resounding clap that made Vibhisena’s ears ring. At once, all movement in the habitat ceased abruptly. He gazed down in wonderment and saw that every single rakshasa had frozen where they were, locked in the act of running, falling, climbing, screaming, whatever. Several were even suspended in mid-air, in the process of falling off the stairs. He marvelled at the way they simply hung there in mid-air, limbs flailing, faces contorted in expressions of terror. They looked so fixed, he felt certain that were he to attempt to move them with a long pole, he would find them to be as rigid as stone statues held by invisible unbreakable wires. It was a miraculous sight, the entire habitat frozen in mid-action. 

Supanakha purred with approval, then resumed cleaning herself with her tongue. Mandodhari was struggling to maintain her attitude of sculpted composure but there was no mistaking the impression that this display of power had left upon her. Indrajit and Akshay Kumar openly exchanged exultant grins, looking at their father with the adoration of two power-hungry princes-in-waiting. 

‘Now that’s power!’ Indrajit shouted, slapping his palm down on the railing of the Pushpak. 

‘Elegantly done,’ Akshay Kumar agreed. 

‘Teach those fools to run around mindlessly the instant the first crisis occurs!’ Indrajit added. ‘Not running any more, are you now?’ he shouted at the frozen multitude. 

Ravana raised his ten heads to them and, Vibhisena saw, not one of those heads had anything but cold fury in their eyes. He would have taken yet another step back but his back was against a pole of the viman and while he could have willed the Pushpak to remove the pole in a flash of a thought, it would be embarrassing to do so simply because he was scared. 

But Ravana did not roar or lash out. His voice, when he spoke, was quietly dangerous. ‘At least they run, for by running they take action, and by taking action they fulfil their karma. What do you two do, my sons? While Lanka was being rebuilt and restored these many years, what great work were you engaged in that would honour the name of your noble ancestor? Tell me, what great karya have you accomplished that will make me proud that you carry the name Pulastya?’ 

The expressions on the faces of Indrajit and Akshay Kumar were worth paying money to see. Vibhisena understood their confusion: the old Ravana would have sided with them in a trice, venting his fury at the mindless minions below, not turning against them thus. Not that he wouldn’t have abused them as vehemently and as frequently, just that he wouldn’t have done so in this particular case. They exchanged a glance, only mildly concerned. Akshay Kumar spoke first, his smooth charm taking over before Indrajit could implicate them both with some ill-spoken outburst. 

‘We did what Mother ordered us to do, Father,’ Akshay Kumar said in a cleverly modulated tone. ‘She told us to keep out of the way and stay out of trouble until the rebuilding was over. So we did just that, didn’t we, brother?’ 

Indrajit grunted unhappily. ‘Aye, that we did. Even though it felt cowardly to skulk in our palaces without even a rebellion or a riot to quell. I had to settle for smashing the heads of my own fighting partners at practise each day.’ 

Ravana walked the length of the Pushpak’s main deck, the width of his massive shoulders forcing both Indrajit and Akshay Kumar to step back to allow him room to pass. When he turned, he was close enough to reach out and grasp both their throats with two of his hands, the way Vibhisena had seen him do once before when both the boys were very young. On that occasion, it had taken the entire family—Kumbhakaran had been awake and Kala-Nemi had been present too—to convince Ravana not to choke his own sons to death. Vibhisena didn’t even recall what their error had been, so insignificant was it, but Ravana had been prepared to kill his only two children for that minor infraction. 

The hands Ravana stretched out on this occasion didn’t land on their throats but on their shoulders. Still, the flicker in the eyes of both princes was enough to convey their brief anxiety. While both were now great warriors in their own right, no longer the unbearded boys they had been on that long-ago occasion, the two sons of Ravana were nevertheless no match for their father’s asura sorcery, and they knew it well. They would not have given their father the satisfaction of quailing visibly, but they could not stop their hearts from skipping a beat either.